


Keeping your head up

by frostysunflowers



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Drowning, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Protective Peter Parker, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-19
Updated: 2020-02-19
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:07:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22794496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frostysunflowers/pseuds/frostysunflowers
Summary: It’s been a while, a long while, since Tony felt this defenceless. He’s without a suit, the manacle around his ankle is solid steel, and he can’t see a single way out.He’s been here before, but back then there had been tools, resources, options.Here, there’s just the walls, his missing kid and the water.The water.
Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Comments: 45
Kudos: 314





	Keeping your head up

**Author's Note:**

> Just a short one - please be aware of medical inaccuracies in relation to the aftermath of drowning, we use artistic licence very liberally round these parts. Enjoy! <3

It’s been about five minutes since Tony worked out he’s a dead man. 

The water is almost up to the top of his chest now, sloshing up against the underside of his jaw as he tries to keep himself afloat. The manacle around his ankle is tight, pulling uncomfortably as the water lifts him higher. There’s no give in the chain connecting him to the wall and Tony knows he’s only got about a minute or two left before he goes under. 

Peter’s voice had faded away what seems like a lifetime ago, vanishing with a bold promise of "Just hang on, Mister Stark, I’ll get you out!" and Tony had been left to practice his deep breathing exercises and look around for a way out as water started seeping in from underneath the door. 

They’d been separated when they were brought in, though Peter had fought valiantly to prevent that from happening. If it hadn’t been for the gun that had found its way up to Tony’s forehead, he thinks the kid could have busted them out then and there. He’d felt Peter’s anxious gaze on him the entire time as he was punched twice, pulled into the cell and shackled to the wall.

One meaningful look, something loaded with unspoken reassurances ( _it’s gonna be okay, kid)_ and determined promises ( _I’m gonna get us outta here, Mister Stark),_ was all they’d shared as the door slammed closed, leaving Tony completely alone. 

There’s no telling how much time passed before a series of explosions had rocked the air and made the walls tremble. Tony heard muffled shouts and gunfire, then Peter’s slightly strained voice calling out to him, then nothing but the churn of rushing water. 

The battle between his own increasing panic and near unbearable concern for Peter is a fierce one, and his breath is coming faster and faster now as he continues to rise with the water.

It’s been a while, a long while, since Tony felt this defenseless. He’s without a suit, the manacle around his ankle is solid steel, and he can’t see a single way out. 

He’s been here before, but back then there had been tools, resources, options.

Here, there’s just the walls, his missing kid and the water. 

_The water._

Tony starts humming the tune to Good Vibrations as the water hits his chin. It’s a favourite of Peter’s, on account of it being a favourite of May’s, and Tony suddenly remembers with staggering fondness all the times he’s side-eyed Peter for calling it that "really awesome old song, Mister Stark."

It's a useless but welcome kind of comfort and he carries on even as his teeth start to chatter, the old scar tissue where his arc reactor used to be aching fiercely as he tries to fight back the sensation of panic threatening to consume him. 

How many times has he faced death now? Countless. 

How many of those times had he actually been convinced he would die? Only a few.

Did he ever want to die? Once, twice, maybe.

But now? 

He thinks of Pepper, radiant, perfect and so, so much more than he ever deserved. 

He thinks of Rhodey, Happy, the team; the mixture of friendships and unwavering loyalty that he never knew he could treasure so much. 

And Peter. How he ever ended up with a kid so good and sweet in his life, he’ll never know. 

He hates that he won’t get more time with him. 

The feeling of regret is heavy in Tony’s chest, tugging on his lungs as it plummets into his stomach, somehow dragging him down just that bit more into the water. He tilts his head back as the coldness slaps across his face, looking up towards the grotty ceiling above. The one single lightbulb in the room blinks erratically, like the white lightning of bombs exploding in the sand, and then Afghanistan overrides every rational thought. 

Tony knows he’s yelling now, can hear the fear in the shrill cacophony of his voice as it bounces around the cell, and there’s that instinctive flood of _it’s not real it’s not real it’s not real_ through his senses, but it means nothing as his head finally goes under. 

He knows struggling won’t help. He’s sat through countless hours of training, forced himself to listen to Steve’s Captain America voice explain What To Do If You’re Insert Applicable Dilemma Here, had therapy to combat his aversion to water once Pepper and Rhodey finally managed to convince him to go, but none of it is worth a damn when this is really happening. 

He’s going to drown. 

So Tony fights, kicks and yanks at the chain holding his leg, pulls himself down towards the wall to take another look at where it sticks to the brick, as though doing so in such poor lighting will suddenly reveal a secret he hadn’t noticed before. 

But there’s nothing, and the need for air is so vicious and desperate within him now. 

God, he doesn’t want to die like this.

Not when Peter’s the one who will find him first. 

Not when there’s so much more to a life he never expected to have. 

His insides are burning, lungs screaming, heart racing. His very bones feel like they’re cracking apart, his blood curdling into hot acid as the air in his body vanishes with each passing second. 

Times up. 

His body moves, sluggish jerks of instinctive panic that do no good, only fuel the sharp agony in his lungs. His mouth opens of its own accord and water gushes in with a punishing pressure, and suddenly there’s no more room for fear or regret. 

It’s just cold, a numb weightlessness creeping over every bit of him, shutting everything down. 

A vague thought drifts across his mind, something about holding on; isn’t that what he’s told the kid? To never give up, no matter what, because Tony will always come for him? 

Something like that. 

God, he hopes the kid doesn’t take this too badly. 

So dark now...so quiet…

Something touches his face, a firm grip pushing into his cheeks and suddenly he’s aware of a piercing brown gaze peering at him through the murky darkness. 

Peter. 

Of all the sights Tony could drift off to, of all the wonderful parts of his life that his mind could cling onto in his final moments, this is definitely one of the very best. 

He wants to reach out, touch the face bobbing inches from his own, but he can’t move. Everything is too limp and heavy, not a single ounce of strength remaining as his vision tunnels. 

His leg jolts and then he’s being pulled, propelled upwards with furious speed, and air is hitting his face in a sharp burst that leaves him choking, nothing pushing past the water that’s bubbling in his lungs. 

He can hear shouting, and there’s hands holding him up, keeping him afloat as he tries to breathe. 

" - ark! You’re okay, I gotcha out. We just gotta wait for the water to go down - Mister Stark! Can you hear me? Mister Stark!"

Water spews from Tony’s mouth and he coughs violently in hacking barks, clutching feebly at the arms wrapped around his chest. 

"Oh, god, please don’t die, Mister Stark," Peter jabbers into his hair, "please, I swear I won’t get a Spider-Man injury for at least, like, two weeks."

More water comes up as Tony finally pulls in enough air to wheeze brokenly and open his eyes. 

"L-lies."

Peter’s answering laugh is bright and trembling with happy relief. 

"Yeah, yeah, okay, I’m lying but holy shit, Mister Stark, you scared me so bad."

Tony’s aware of the way they’re slowly spinning in circles, following the dwindling water levels as it washes away through what is either a Spider-Man shaped hole in the wall or the open cell door, and he lets himself lean further back against Peter as his body shakes with more than just the grateful gulps of air. 

"T-thanks, kid."

"You so can’t say no anymore to coming to see the new Star Wars with me and Ned." 

"K-kid, I’ll _b-buy_ you Star Wars."

"You mean like when it comes out in stores?''

''N-no - ''

"Wait, you mean the actual - holy shit, you can _do_ that?"

Their feet finally touch the ground, and Tony manages to turn enough to get one of his arms around Peter’s neck in a weak hug just as War Machine sloshes through the shallows into the cell. 

"L-late again, honeybear," Tony taunts, bending slightly to the side to bring up even more water. 

"Oh, that’s rich coming from you," Rhodey snorts, mask flipping up so he can eye the two of them carefully. "Cap and the others are clearing out the rest of this place. You two alright?"

Tony lifts his head enough to look at Peter properly. With his curls matted to his head like squashed springs and his clothes completely soaked through, he looks so wonderfully ridiculous that Tony suddenly can’t breathe again for the weight of love in his chest. 

"Y-yeah," he rasps, retching a little. "We’re g-good."

"Okay," Rhodey says, moving to assist and wrapping an arm around Tony's waist, "you need medical attention, the kid needs a spin in the dryer and I need at least two good stiff drinks to make up for how much you both scared the shit outta me."

"It’s not our fault we got kidnapped," Peter protests as they exit the room. "I mean, yeah, okay, it _was_ my idea to go out for pizza but - "

Tony pulls Peter close enough to press a kiss to his temple, happiness and fond exasperation wrapping around him as he feels Peter lean into the touch. 

"What was that for, Mister Stark?" Peter asks, a flush appearing on his wet cheeks. 

"He’s just being sappy, Pete," Rhodey says with a grin. "Aren’t you, Tones?"

"Sure am," Tony agrees hoarsely. "A-and you’re next, sourpatch."

"Oh, lucky me."

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! <3


End file.
